Unsustainable
by Binet-Simon Scale
Summary: Face masterbating to the thought of BA. Rated M to be a bit more on the safe side kinda extreme T?


Disclaim: I do not in any way own the A-Team and other associated characters.

It was rare that Templeton Peck ever went a night without a lover to warm his bed it was a constant thing like the moon and sun being separated, occasionally though a solstice comes around leaving his bed cold and his body frustrated. It's not like he couldn't have someone tonight he almost head a curvy brown eyed blonde, her skirt oh so short and her v just deep enough, but he didn't want that tonight and he had an irritating amount of trouble trying to find someone who fit his status quo for the night. Never was it a secret that Face didn't swing a couple different ways while it was more of a known unknown that he fantasized about sleeping with his team mates, on multiple occasions.

Admittedly it was a hard thing not to do – uniquely attractive men and Face's dirty mind – he'd dream up all kind of scenarios. Hannibal in a suede suite leaning back in an old leather chair, hair pulled back, cigar smoke heavy and seducing, and all Face needed was a little more time to pay off his debt. Murdock's mile long legs around him, Mrs. Pac-Man tee hoisted high, toes curling in his chucks, hat thrown across the room, finally little mewls about aerodynamics when Face hit that spot just right.

And when those thoughts hit him – and they hit hard, oh, but so good – he knows just what to do – find a woman, man, or whatever lay between that shared similar qualities and have mind blowing sex. His first replacement Hannibal had been a hell of a women, jet black hair showing grey edges around her temple, set jaw, broad shoulders, but killer curves and breasts, she had made him suck a strap on till it was soaking before she fucked him rough whilst smoking a whole pack of slims then another when he went down on her. His favorite replacement Murdock had shared nothing physically with the pilot but shit he was crazy, small and feminine, with red curls, thick lashes above green eyes, but when Face touched all the right spots he'd moan pointless things about celebrities, laugh like a mad man, and purr like a kitten.

Now all those visions were all fine and dandy when he wanted his boss or his buddy, but tonight they stirred nothing in him. However one of his team mates could lend their – ah – aesthetic pleasantries to aid his – ah – dreams – wet dreams are still dreams right? What could he say Hannibal was cool and dominating, Murdock was crazed and desperate to please, but BA…

Bosco was fierce. Nothing but muscle, tattoos, and scars, unafraid to hold Temp down and hurt him a few more minutes after he said the safe word. BA scared the shit out of Face but the fear went straight to his cock.

The trouble was BA was a hard thing to find in other people because BA was a bucking bronco that no one can break still Face just wants to hop on and see if he can hang on for those eternity long seconds, fall off bloodied and bruised but with a satisfied ache set deep in his bone. Peck didn't even dream of taming him just riding and that's how all his fantasies played out. BA coming to him, throwing him down to fuck him raw and fast, beat him just a little just enough to remind him that when this is all over that he played with fire – and won.

Face couldn't approach someone else when he wanted BA, they had to approach him and not care if he said no. So tonight, Templeton Peck, lays alone painfully aroused and no satisfaction from another body. Face really hated jacking off – it was the ultimate defeat of his ego that he couldn't bed who he wanted, but he was after a bigger goal here more specifically release.

Peck grasp his cock half heartedly, wondering if it's a little too late for a blonde to be in his bed, until his body takes over and he squeezes his cock roughly, pulling up, and twisting. He hisses, back arching, face twisting in pain, the image of a rouge smirk and thick cords of muscle, smell of sweat, gold, and motor oil.

"Face likes,"

His imaginary lover chuckles long and low a sound from deep in his chest, moving his hand up and down jerkily, free hand harshly twisting his nipples red. The hand leaves his cock and there's a moan of disappointment cut short by a finger pushing into him and fuck it hurts, but BA's not the kind to lube anything up, preferring something quick and fast, enough to ease some of the tension but never really let it go.

"Ya like that bitch?"

Three fingers in, ass in the air, cock getting rug burn from the shitty motel sheets, alternating between getting choked or spanked – yea Face likes it. Likes that he has no control that when he wants more BA gives him less, when he's screaming stop till his voice gives out BA keeps going, BA has no respect for life not with his hand around Face's neck in a c-clamp even when his body goes limp from oxygen deprivation, and Temp has no respect for himself right now – knowing that out of his delusions he's humping the bed, fingering himself with his hand around his neck.

Face comes with a gasp for air, body convulsing with the rush of breath and release, flopping fully onto the single bed, satisfied, at least until that image of Hannibal resurfaces.

_AN/ _ The fuck is up with me and kink memes recently? Now this one? Well at least it's not another BA/Murdock – (Face masturbating to the thought of B.A.)


End file.
